He sat down at his desk again, glancing at the folder of papers in front of him. He was dressed as she had always seen him, a dark suit with a white shirt and dark tie. His white hair was thin on top, and the lines on his face were deeper than she had remembered. She looked down at her hands in her lap, remembering Papa Beau claiming, “Never trusted lawyers too much, except my old friend Preston. He’s about the best friend I ever had.”
The only sound was the tick of the old clock on the wall, and she waited for him to speak. He looked up and glanced at the clock, saying, “We only have one other person that we’re waiting for, and he—”
Mrs. Grassley appeared in the door and said, “Right this way, Mr. Redding.”
Lizzie’s head swung around toward the door where she watched in shock as Scott walked into the office. He smiled at Mr. Barker before turning his attention to her.
“Lizzie,” Preston said, standing from behind his desk, “I’ve asked Mr. Redding to be here. It was your grandfather’s wish that he be present at the reading of the will.”
Saying nothing, her heart began to pound with nerves. Did Papa Beau not trust me with the farm? Trying to force her expression to calm, she offered what she was sure was more of a grimace than a smile.
Preston nodded toward the other chair and said, “Scott, please take a seat.” Turning his attention back to Lizzie, he said, “My dear, let me do the reading, and then I think everything will be clear.”
Nervous, she sat, her back ramrod-straight, her hands now clasped even tighter in her lap. Not trusting her voice to speak, she remained silent, staring toward Preston, refusing to look to the side.
The lawyer shuffled a few papers around and then said, “I’m sure it’s no surprise that everything now belongs to you, Lizzie. He knew that your mother was taken care of since she married and so there was no money left for her. What makes it all better for you... on advice from Scott, Beau had already placed your name on his accounts and the farm deed so that you won’t have to pay inheritance taxes. This means the land, the house, the animals, and all the possessions contained on the land or in the house are yours. He had a checking account and savings account at the Baytown Bank, and a small trust fund for you as well.”
She was not surprised that her grandfather had left everything to her, but the news that Scott had saved her a great deal of money in taxes—along with his presence in the room—made her feel unbalanced. Uncertain why Papa Beau wanted him there, she remained perched on the edge of her seat, heart racing, palms sweating.
Preston slid his glasses off of his face and, pulling out a handkerchief, began to clean the lens. Once again, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. Uncertainty filled her, and she glanced to the side, observing Scott staring at her, a concerned look on his face. Just when she could take the suspense no longer, she opened her mouth to speak when Preston replaced his glasses back on his face and cleared his throat.
“Of course,” he began, “your grandfather knew that there would be things that we hate to deal with but need to when someone passes. That’s why he asked for Mr. Redding to be here. He seemed to think that you would try to do things on your own, and he wanted to take that burden from you.”
At those last words, Lizzie sucked in her lips tightly to quell the quivering while blinking back the tears. She swallowed deeply, afraid to speak for fear that her words were turned to sobs. She was glad to hear that the reason her grandfather wanted Scott present was because he could handle all the accounting for the farm. Blowing out a shaky breath, she nodded.
Preston continued, “And your grandfather knew that times were changing, and you had some good ideas about what to do with the farm. He knew it wouldn’t survive trying the same old farm methods from his time or his father’s time.”
She remembered her grandfather’s incredulity when she first wanted to buy goats and alpacas, but she’d showed him the research she had completed on how they would be able to use some of their pastureland for those animals and then use the fleece and milk to make products to sell. She had held her breath, wondering what his response was going to be, but Papa Beau had simply smiled and said, “I think you’ve got something there, girl.” Chuckling, he had added, “I sure would like to have seen my daddy’s face at the idea of one of them alpacas in his fields.” As the memory moved through her mind, she focused her attention back on Preston as he began to shuffle papers on his desk again.
Clearing his throat, Preston lifted his gaze toward her. “Beau also wanted to make sure you had someone who could help you with a good business plan. That was the other reason he wanted Scott here… not just for taxes but to work with you to make sure the farm was solvent.”
At that, she blinked, her body jerking as though slapped. “He’s supposed to help me formulate my business plan?” She swung her head around to stare at Scott. “But you don’t know anything about farming! Or what I want to do!” Not giving either man a chance to speak, she jumped to her feet, looking down at Scott. “For all I know, you’re going to tell me to bow to the pressure of Luca Giordano and sell the farm just to make money off the land and then I’ll end up with nothing!”
Scott stood quickly, his hands out, saying, “Lizzie, I would never tell you to sell. That’s your land and your heritage.”
Preston hurried around his desk once again, his hands out toward her. “Lizzie, please, be calm. Beau was just looking out for your interests. He would never want you to sell the farm. That was why he knew that if he was not around to assist, he felt Scott was the perfect person to give you sound business advice.”
Dropping her chin to her chest, she shook her head slowly back and forth, staring at her feet as the heavy weight on her chest pressed in deeper. Her voice barely a whisper, she said, “He thought so little of me? That I couldn’t do things on my own?”
Preston placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a little squeeze as he leaned in close. His words, spoken steady and strong, said, “My dear, Beau would have done anything for you. You were the light of his life. He loved your ideas and was excited about what you wanted to do. He didn’t make this request because he didn’t think you couldn’t handle things. The only reason he wanted you to have Scott’s assistance is so you wouldn’t feel so alone. That terrified him, Lizzie… to think that you’d be alone.”
He gave her shoulders a little shake, and she lifted her chin to stare into the watery eyes of her grandfather’s friend. “But I am alone,” she whispered. Holding his eyes, she nodded slightly, her voice barely audible now. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Barker.” Taking a step back, she turned and picked up her purse and walked out of the room, avoiding Scott’s gaze. She passed by Mrs. Grassley but said nothing as she walked out to the truck.
She drove in silence, her mind in turmoil. Looking ahead, she saw The Diner, a popular restaurant in the county near the little town of Easton. The old-fashioned restaurant held many fond memories. As a girl, her grandfather would stop there on his way back from the feed store, and he would buy her a milkshake, complete with whipped cream and a cherry on top. She would happily slurp the sweet concoction while Papa Beau chatted with the owners, Joe and Mavis. Years later, she befriended one of the waitresses, Carrie, a single mom who worked long hours but always managed to have a smile and a friendly word.